


find you when the sun goes black

by wondercurls1917



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Halloween Gift Exchange, Multi, Old Gods, Post-Canon, Prophetic Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wondercurls1917/pseuds/wondercurls1917
Summary: For trekinist on Tumblr! Part of the Danger Days Halloween Gift Exchange.Jet Star wakes up. He needs to find Party Poison.
Relationships: Jet Star/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	find you when the sun goes black

The sky was on fire. It was a little hard to breathe.

He reached up to touch his own face. The waxy, flimsy feeling of rubber found his fingertips. His hand travelled lower, over bumps and ridges. Nose, mouth (opened, fangs), chin. He found the edge of the mask. He wedged his fingers beneath it, and yanked upward.

The draculoid mask was shoved indelicately off his head, and Jet Star stared up at the burning red-gold sky in awe and terror.

“Party—” His voice gave out. His throat was dry and sore, and he couldn’t seem to recall why he was  _ here,  _ beneath a broken dome and a drac mask and not in the Diner amongst his closest friends and family.

Why wasn’t he in the Diner? Had there been an undercover mission? Had something gone wrong?

Another aching question darted quick and burning through his chest: Where was Party Poison?

Shouting in the street. When he looked around, all he saw was rubble for miles, and then, far out, golden dust, alight by the Sun. How long had it been? Jet Star had never been absent of the feeling of the warmth on his face, but now he could hardly remember what it was like.

He needed to get a list straight. What he needed to do, what he wanted to change. First, he needed to find his crew. Party Poison, Kobra Kid, Fun Ghoul, and their Girl. Second, he needed a helmet—he already had a raygun on his belt. Third, he really,  _ really  _ wanted to not be wearing a BL/ind sanctioned drac uniform.

Jet turned toward the east, and started walking.

00000

“Why are we here?” Party asked.

Jet had been having this dream since he was young. “What do you mean?” he said, again, even though he knew the answer.

Party Poison thumped their heels against the trans am. He scooted closer so he wasn’t at risk of falling off the roof of it. Their pinky stretched to touch his.

“Why are we—” They gestured about themself, at the desert, at the world, at  _ everything.  _ “—here? What’s our purpose? Why stay in the desert and fight? It must be… so quiet when you get far away enough.”

Jet Star looked at them, and held his tongue, wishing they’d turn so he could see those mismatched eyes past the curtain of red. The rosary on their wrist glinted in the rising sun.

“I think…” They were biting their lip. They turned their face down so they no longer looked to the sunrise. Their voice was quivering when they next spoke. “I want to run away from here, Star.”

Jet reached out and took their hand in his. He brought their knuckles to his mouth and pressed a kiss there, firm and sure. He set their hands back down, refused to let go. “You can run away with me anytime you want.”

Party Poison’s chest hitched. Even in the golden light all around them, they seemed to illuminate from the inside, a shade of violet he could only ever find in the far night sky. They sobbed, and turned their face to the sky. When Party’s jaw gaped, Jet knew what was coming.

He sat upright on a cold stone street with Party’s haunting scream echoing in his head. There was a short figure standing over him, panting raggedly, hidden by long, tangled masses of raven-dark hair.

“Want to go home,” Fun Ghoul grunted.

Jet Star smiled despite himself. “Do you know where everyone else is?”

Ghoul turned xyr face upward and inhaled deeply, xyr nostrils flaring. “Kobra a-a-and Girlie are in desert. Party’s— Party’s gone.”

_ Gone. _

_ Gone? _

“What do you mean.”

00000

The desert was so full, Jet Star didn’t even think this was the same desert he was born in.

He’d been gone eight years. He’d missed out on  _ most  _ of his twenties, and had now begun his third decade of life. The Girl was somewhere out here. There were punk-ass posers somewhere out here  _ with  _ her.

Dr. Death Defying was dead. Video had truly killed the Radio Star.

“Where are we going?” Jet asked as Ghoul pulled a motorbike from hidden stacks just outside City limits. Xe shoved it in his direction. Jet gladly grabbed the handles and straddled it; he missed this.

“The N-Nest,” Ghoul said, getting on behind him and holding on tight.

Jet Star rode out. He would’ve liked to have his helmet, but the bandana and goggles were enough for now. He drove for a while, two or more hours, but the Sun stayed put.

The Nest, a crumbling motel that he’d once known well, appeared like a mirage in the distance. Jet took the bike off-road and went to it.

A crowd were gathered amongst the broken radios and televisions piled around Destroya. There was a figure marked bright red standing above them all, rallying.

Jet got off the bike faster than he could bring it full stop. He and Ghoul ditched it, and Jet Star couldn’t help the glaring hope startling through his chest as he raced toward the crowd.

Fun Ghoul snatched at his arm, and Jet stopped long enough to realize— No, that wasn’t Party. That was someone who undoubtedly wanted to pose as the leader of the Zones.

“—break down what’s left of BL/ind!” the older teen was yelling. “If we don’t kill them  _ now,  _ they will grow again. The Killjoys  _ must  _ take charge now, before we’re all goners!”

“What about the citizens?” a high-pitched voice called. “Please, Val, we can’t just—”

“All of it!” this ‘joy, this  _ Val  _ character, barked. “Everything needs to go! We need to build the world again  _ from the start!” _

Jet Star’s blood boiled. He swallowed curses, swallowed grief, and hollered, “That’s  _ not  _ how the Fabulous Killjoys operated. Why should we listen to you?”

Eyes turned to him. He felt grateful for his goggles and his change of clothes—drac uniform into good worn jeans and a dusty shirt and leather jacket. Val glared from the low stage.

“Oh,  _ you’d  _ know, old man,” the kid sneered. “Please, go on and tell me how the  _ Fabulous Killjoys  _ operated. Go on.”

“Haven’t you heard?” someone in crowd yelled. “He’s the new Party Poison! Val Velocity is king of the sands!”

Jet  _ seethed.  _ “Party Poison would be  _ ashamed  _ of what you’ve turned their name into! You don’t have the desert’s best interest at heart, Velocity. You only  _ think  _ you do!”

Before anyone else could say anything, an eerily familiar voice from the other edge of the crowd said, “Oh, I thought that was you, Jet. Long time no see.” A willowy body pushed through the crowd, and Jet spotted hair colored by shitty bleach, sunglasses, and a plain red leather jacket. A murmur started up.  _ “And  _ Ghoul? Shit, lucky day, huh?”

“Kobra, Kobra, Kobra, Kobra,” Ghoul chanted, eyes dilated huge, spurring xemself through people, elbowing and tripping until xe got xyr arms around him.

“No way,” someone shouted.

Jet lifted his goggles and dropped his bandana to smile harshly at Val Velocity, who looked to be pissing his own pants. “Get off the fuckin’ stage.”

A petite body rammed into him, just an inch shorter than Ghoul. He glanced down and found himself staring at short, springy coils of blonde hair. A katana glinted on her back. She still fit into her old vest.

Jet lifted the Girl onto his back and took forward toward the stage with Kobra and Ghoul.

00000

It was dark and cold in the Diner and it shouldn't have been.

The windows had been covered with bleak, pale tarps. All the tapestries and unfinished works inside were all gone, torn away or spirited from their customary spots. Kobra's inventions had been rifled through. Ghoul's explosives had been torn apart and stolen.

A sniff-test from Ghoul revealed nothing— _ probably ghosts,  _ xe'd said—and the Girl hadn't been since they'd died, apparently. They were lucky 27 and Constellation were still in the garage, but the trans am had been left in the City and was supposedly rotting in deep garages in destroyed, for all they knew.

But the beds were the same. Jet Star’s bed still smelled like the particular grain of sweat and personal flavor that Party Poison excreted. Grease and oil paint. Chemical color and radiation highs. Zone spunk and upthrusted volume.

He didn't sleep the first night.

00000

"Thinking of running away again?" Jet asked. They were on the trans am again, together. It was the same dream, almost.

The Sun was setting instead of rising. He didn't know what that meant.

Party turned to him—another change to the familiar old dream—and their eyes were wide and glowing pale purple. "Jet?" they asked, shocked.

"Of course," he said. He was on the verge of something. He didn't know what. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "You're gorgeous. I miss you."

It was true. Jet Star obviously missed them, but they really were gorgeous right here and now. Long brown hair waved in the wind. It must've been down their back. They still had their same pockmarked scars, their freckles, the gap between their front teeth. Their eyes glowed dusk and they were dusted pink along their high cheekbones. They were a lacy thing over their flat chest, and it sat high enough that he could see their scars, long and thin, stretching toward their sternum..

"Find Maya," Party Poison said. They blinked once, twice, and their eyes went back to hazel-gold and blue. "Maya the Psychic. Ask after them. Ask in Zone 6, Star. Find Maya the Psychic."

Jet woke from a restless sleep, feeling faint and sweating in the pre-dawn.

00000

Maya the Psychic eluded him. Jet Star searched far and wide for them. Nothing. No one. A trail of dust leading to the stars long gone. Maya the Psychic was either dead or dust.

He searched for months. Long enough that Fun Ghoul began praying to the Witch again, and Kobra began staying outside for longer and longer periods of time to soak up as much sunlight as he possibly could.

In a fit of rage and upset, Jet Star left off on Constellation and rode out. He rode through Zones 4, 5, and 6, and then rode further.

Then the sun was gone. Jet lost control of his bike as a sandstorm suddenly roiled through, one second absent and the next raging. He flew to the ground, skidding in gritty, cold sand.

Then, out of the storm, a figure. It was haloed in soft violet light. The storm calmed. Jet Star looked up from where he was knelt.

"Welcome to Zone 7," the pale imitation of Party Poison’s voice said. They opened their arms in a gesture of grandeur. "They've been waiting for you."

And then Party dropped forward, eyes rolling into the back of their head. Jet Star caught them. The storm around them vanished, evaporating in a blink. He could see Constellation just a few paces away, scratched up but not irreparably damaged.

He easily scooped up Party, in all their ancient godlike glory, and maneuvered to lift his bike. It was time to take them home.

00000

Party Poison slept for three days. Jet Star did not.

00000

They came tearing into the main of the Diner as Kobra swept and Ghoul batted at xyr latest chemical phenomenon. Jet Star was talking to Girlie about wielding the katana, about life, about  _ her mother. _

"What the fuck," Party said. They were gripping two long locks of dark brown hair in either fist. "Why. Why. Where's the scissors."

"I'll get them and the dye," Jet said softly and stood.

"I-I-I'll radio Newsie," Ghoul chipped in.

"Great," Kobra said, and threw the broom to the far wall, where it clattered loudly. The Girl laughed. "Happy late birthday. We're twenty-nine."

"Yeah, I know," Party said flippantly. They tugged their hair again. "Haircut. Pretty please."

00000

Outside the Diner, Jet Star chopped off fifteen inches of hair. Kobra shaved the sides and back of his twin's head, and then went in with bleach on the top. It'd been cut two inches short, probably the shortest it'd ever been. While they let the bleach sit, Kobra went inside and Jet sat with Party.

"I was possessed by the ancient desert god of prophecy for a  _ while,"  _ they said softly. They rubbed beneath their chin. There was an explosion scar there like the one over Jet's right eye. Jet swallowed bile and looked at their face. "I think two months after— everything, Maya came in and took the reigns. I've— We've been in Zone 7 ever since."

"I missed you," Jet said, because he had. "There's some jackass kid posing as you somewhere out here. I really want to scare the hell out of him."

Party barked out a surprised laugh. "There's been a prophecy god in my head for eight years but there's still so much I missed. And I missed you too, Star. I love you."

Jet got suddenly choked up. "I love you too," he managed.

They sat there, a pace away from each other, and Jet Star was unsure of what he was supposed to be doing until Party burst forward and pressed their mouth hotly to his. He suddenly realized,  _ oh, I'm supposed to be doing this,  _ and kissed back, reaching and grabbing and being reached for and grabbed back.

"I'd fucking  _ love _ to scare the shit out of a punk-ass with you, Jetty," Party breathed against his mouth. Jet laughed. "But seriously. I think I missed you the most, Jet."

"I love you so much," Jet said, holding onto Party. He didn’t want to lose them again. He  _ refused  _ to lose them again.

"I know," they said, pressing as tightly as they could against him without staining his hair with the bleach. "Can we unionize al-fuckin'-ready? I think eight years is long enough, I'm done waiting, personally."

Jet Star cried in the sunshine, and helped Party Poison dye their hair red with a streak of neon blue like a stripe of pride.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for being late !! I hope you like it, this took me a while to write down
> 
> I hope y'all know I'm definitely expanding on this idea lol


End file.
